"Do with me?
Do you speak of me as though I were a dog--a dumb animal--but I will----" He choked and coughed, and could not finish the sentence.

There was a hectic flush in his cheek and his thin, graceful frame shook violently from head to foot.

Unable to speak for the moment, he waved his hand in a menacing gesture.

The Wanderer shook his head rather sadly.
"He seems very ill," he said, in a tone of compassion.
But Unorna was pitiless.

She knew what her companion could not know, namely, that Kafka must have followed them through the streets to the cemetery and must have overheard Unorna's passionate appeal and must have seen and understood the means she was using to win the Wanderer's love.